Archive of Our Own ^beta

You are born in a middle of a crisis. Just a minute after you breathe for the first time your father blinks out of existence. Your mother is crying, her heart just broken, but your new-born heart beats fast and strong like a drum.

You're three and you're hiding in a closet. Adrenaline courses through your veins and your heart is like a panicked little bird. You are sobbing, but you try to keep quiet, so that he wouldn't find you.

The door slams open and you scream.

You're ten and you've just found your brother's letter. You crush it in your hand, anger and heartbreak flooding through you. You stomp out of the door, the keys in your hand. You don't know where you're going, just that you have to get out of here, fast. You start the car and drive.

You speed towards the cliff, your heart beating furiously, like it knows that it will all end soon. Like it tries to make up for years worth of living in a couple of seconds. At the last second you panic and jump.

You feel weightless.

You're thirteen and there's a boy dying in your arms.

He's five, maybe four, years younger than you. You can't be sure. You didn't have time to ask. You only know that his name is Kevin and that he has the sweetest smile you've ever seen.

He shivers and you hold him tighter against you. You start humming in a low voice, trying not to wake the other children. You hope it'll be over soon. The child smiles and thanks you. You close your eyes and when you open them he's gone. Your heartbeat is as weary as you feel when you rise up, the boy still in your arms, and go off to bury him.

You're twenty-two and getting your ass handed to you in a bar. Not that you care who's doing the beating. It feels good either way. In fact, you deserve this. Your heart seems to agree. It beats: come-on, come-on, come-on, do-it, do-it, do-it.

Then Christoper Pike walks in and saves you. And not just from getting beaten, from yourself.

You're twenty-five and it will all end soon. You will get expelled. You just know it. It is over, over, over.

You demand to see the person who charged you. You want to look into your executioners eyes when it ends.

Your heart stops. For less than a second the world freezes. Then you blink and it's over. You shake your head, trying to get rid of your unease but it lingers on under your skin.

He brings up your father. The cold emotionless bastard. Even a Vulcan should have a better sense than to bring that up. But he doesn't and you hate him. You. Hate. Him.

But then why does your heart hurt when you watch him go?

You've just went trough a mind-meld. It feels like your head is going to explode. There're so many feeling inside of you. And not all of them belong to you. Your chest hurts. You cry because of the pain, of the longing, and the enormous love you feel.

He feels all this for you. For you. He feels all this because of you. He's hurting. You hate him/you for doing this to him. The pain is too much.

How could you? How could you? How could you?

You step onto the pad, waiting for him to say goodbye. Then he stops your heart again, but this time it's because of something far more serious.

How dare he! How dare he kiss her when you're right here watching. How. Dare. He!?

Your heart feels like it's trying to escape from your ribcage. It's demanding you to do
something.

But you can't and you won't. You don't have the right, so you look away.

Are you just going to leave him here?

Yes, because he can do it. He can. You trust him.

You. Trust. Him.

But that doesn't mean you want to hear his request.

It's selfish, but if this will end up being your final memory of him, you want it to be just about you and him. No one else. You don't want to remember the painful twinge your heart made.

Tell lieutenant Uhura...

Tell her what? You think you know, but you don't want to be right.

Your heart is panicking. No. You cannot lose him. You cannot. If you do, you'll not survive it. That's when you realize that you can't ever lose him.

You tried to prevent this. Tried to hate him, but you couldn't. Because you've always been a failure. Your heart has always been weak. It's because of this that you cannot stop it from skipping a beat and then jumping to a start when he materializes on the pad.

You are a failure.

Your heart is beating fast from the exertion. You thrust into this nameless woman again and again. You try not to think about him, but in the end you fail and it's his name that pours from your lips.

You collapse onto the bed and she gets up and leaves. You don't care. You just feel hollow. But you're not going to cry just because you can't have something you wish you could.

You do not deserve him.

Nor does he deserve the pain you would cause him.

You're hurting again.

But this time it's not because of him. It's because your father is dead. Again. You only had him for a few years and now he's gone. And you couldn't save him. Why do you have to fail everyone? Your heart echoes his words to you: proud-of-you, proud-of-you, proud-of-you.

This is the last time you're gonna see him, and, ironically, now your heart is going to stop for real.

You press your hand against the cool surface of the glass, trying to reach him, to touch him, just this once. He imitates you, spreading his fingers apart. You know what it means, and you feel like you're going to cry. But you don't, because before you can, your heart makes its final beat.

Your heart is working again. Its beat is strong and you feel good. He's there with you, just standing there watching you. You are waiting for him to speak, to say something, anything, about what you saw in your final moments. The time stands still. Nothing happens, until suddenly, there're cool lips upon yours, pressing gently for an entrance. You grant it, because you're weak and your heart is fluttering.

You lay your head on his side and listen to his heartbeat. It's faster than yours, stronger, but it doesn't sound weird or wrong. It's the sound of safety and home.

But you know you have to leave him.

You know that soon you have to be strong. You won't hurt him. You know that he will be hurt when you leave, but you have to keep him safe. He will hurt less the sooner you leave. But now, just for a little while, you can lie here and listen to the sound of his heart beating in a steady rhythm. Cold lips press upon your forehead

I love you. I love you. I love you.